“Sure thing, kid,” she replies, sighing softly.

You're leading Keith away – firmly by the hand, this time – when Cynthia's shout catches you.

“Wait,” she shouts. “Wait.” You can hear her heels clattering on the pavement as she trots to make up the short distance you've stretched out between you. “He's someone important to you, right? Otherwise you'd have eaten him on the spot?”

“My brother's best-friend,” you nod, and blush. “He'll... he's going to be my first.”

“Oh. One of those.” Cynthia replies. “That's quite an honour, Keith,” she addresses him. “Even if I did save you, you're probably going to end up in my belly anyway. And you won't be anything like as special a memory to me as you will be to her.”

“I. Do. Not. Want. To. Die.” Keith grinds out.

“Everybody dies, Keith,” Cynthia says. “Boys especially quickly. Still...” she muses. “Look,” she addresses you. “I don't mean to be mean or anything, but you don't really want to eat Keith.”

“I don't?” You reply. “Because it sure feels like-”

“I know.” Cynthia says. “But its perfectly natural for you to want your first meal that badly, whoever it may be. And I guess you've been waiting because you wanted it to be 'perfect,' haven't you?” Gingerly, you nod your agreement to that, too. “See, it's not Keith you really want to eat.” Cynthia says, taking him beneath her arm and drawing him away from you. “It's your brother.”

“I would never eat Paul!” You blurt. “I love my brother!”

“That's the infant talking,” Cynthia dismisses with a casual wave. “There's only two types of vores. Those who've eaten their brothers and those who've grown out of wanting to eat their brothers.” She thinks about this. “Three. Some vores don't have brothers. But you get the picture.”

“I... I...” you think about your brother. Yes, you love Paul. Love the warmth of his embrace, the leanness of his limbs, the way he smells when you hug him... a tasty kind of smell. “I want to eat my brother,” you admit in a kind of daze.

“There you go,” Cynthia smiles.

“But I can't eat Paul,” you realise. “What will mom and dad say?”

“Well, you should ask your mom first,” Cynthia says. “But what she'll probably say is 'enjoy your meal'”.

Something about the way she said that...

“Which kind of vore are you, Miss Cynthia?”

Cynthia breaks into a wicked grin. “I'm the kind who ate my brother,” she smiles at some pleasant memory. “Keith probably doesn't remember – he was only four – but the three of us used to play together. Hide-go-seek, on that occasion. I was seeking, and... quite hungry. Keith's lucky I found him first. In the larder, of all places. Though it turned out to be very appropriate. He was my first, too. And so tasty.”

“And you didn't get in trouble?” You ask.

“Oh, sure.” Cynthia replies. “Dad put me on the naughty step. Then mom came home and put him in her naughty tummy. She said she'd been getting bored with him anyway. After that, she'd bring back the cutest hunks of beefcake for us to eat. Till I was old enough to start attracting them myself, anyway. That was... nine years ago?” In spite of yourself, your just slightly turned on by that story. “So, do you want to eat Keith or not?”

“Huh?” You reply. “Didn't you just say I shouldn't eat Keith, or rather that it's Paul I really want to be eating?”

“Sure,” Cynthia says. “You're always going to remember your first as the first time you ate anything so delicious. But you're going to remember your second time as the time you really got the most out of that delicious thing you're eating. So it's fine to eat Keith as a kind of appetiser so you can properly enjoy Paul. Just know that that's what you're doing.”

“Besides,” Cynthia continues as Keith whimpers and struggles weakly against her grip on his collar. “Eating Keith will put Paul on notice that being his best-friend's not a jot of protection. Pretty soon, by the time you've finished digesting this one,” she ruffles Keith's hair, “he'll have marinated nicely in his own fear. That'll really bring out the flavour.”

“So, what's it to be?”